


Surrounded in Comforts

by sapphirephoenix



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Community: dmhgficexchange, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-14
Updated: 2016-06-14
Packaged: 2018-07-15 02:29:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7202651
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sapphirephoenix/pseuds/sapphirephoenix
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Draco’s thoughts about a certain curly-haired witch.</p><p> </p><p>My submission for the 2011 DMHG Exchange.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Surrounded in Comforts

Draco Malfoy was not the kind of wizard who held hands. He was confident enough in his devotions to his witch and in his demonstrations of admiration, affection, and possession that he didn’t need to do something as smarmy and cliché as _holding hands_.

A firm hand on her lower back as they entered a room marked her as his. A smouldering look when she was off her guard proved his esteem. A soft smile and the barest of nods were warm enough when it came from him.

All of that was out the window as Hermione _Malfoy_ rode him to ecstasy. Endless falls of curls tossed around her body as it rolled. Draco could even feel the ends tickling his thighs when her back was arched and head dropped backwards. He had laced their fingers together early on, and now she used them as a counter balance for her movement.

She lifted their hands up as she found the sweet spot for herself, and Draco watched and listened as she broke apart over him. He followed moments later.

Hermione’s body sagged as she caught her breath; their hands, still joined, fell to Draco’s navel. She smiled at him, that incredibly smug, “look what we’ve done” smile that made his heart melt.

_Fucking. Gorgeous._

Draco closed his eyes and sighed.

And hummed.

He felt bloody fantastic. Rolling his head on the pillow, he looked up at Hermione.

She wagged her eyebrows at him and gave him a devious little smirk.

She was so fucking proud of herself.

And she should be.

Draco untwisted their fingers and slid his hands up her thighs to her waist. She needed very little encouragement to fall forward onto him.

The both grunted when Draco’s softening cock fell from her.

When they were younger, he might have had the stamina to go again right away. Now they both needed recovery time.

Time Draco would use to wrap his arms around Hermione as she dozed with her cheek on his chest. Her breath was gentle, a warm tickle across his sensitive skin.

Tonight her hands rested on either side of his ribs under his biceps. Draco smoothed his hands over her bare back and smiled to himself. As her muscles relaxed, her body rested more heavily on his.

They couldn’t lay like this forever. Eventually their skin would begin to stick together, a feeling Draco loathed. He couldn’t deny the appeal though. It was as close as they could get to each other like this, physically speaking.

It was perfection in these first post-coital minutes.

It was nothing like the ecstasy he felt in his heart at the sight of her or how she made him feel infinite inside.

Draco smoothed his hands from the crest of her bum up to the ends of her hair. Her gentle snores sounded just as he slid a curl between his fingers.

He whispered, “Nox,” and waited for his eyes to adjust to the moonlight streaming in from the floor to ceiling windows a few feet away. After a moment, he could see her hair again, dark against his pale skin. It was thick and soft and _his_. Every millimetre of her body was his. She’d pledged it to him and Hermione never did anything half-heartedly.

It was one of his favourite things about her.

Draco tried to meet her half-way. As she always set the bar so high for herself, he had to work that much harder to meet her there. For his effort, he was an infinitely better man than he had been when all this was started.

She was very smug about that too.

She thought she had something to do with him being a good man.

She had _everything_ to do with him becoming a good man.

Even in his mind now, he didn’t think himself good enough for her. He still had so many impulses, so many vicious shadows in his heart and mind. Draco felt he could never escape his early years.

His left hand drifted lazily back to her hip while he watched the lock of hair twist between his fingers.

He wasn’t good enough, no matter how diligent his honest work was, no matter how philanthropic he was.

Draco sighed and remembered Hermione liked him to be a little bad; she had told him. That was why he couldn’t chastise himself too harshly when he was at his worst.

She liked that he could be a demon and an angel.

He could relate. She was bad, too, in the best ways.

Draco positively adored it when she was bad. 

He was pulled out of his thoughts by the feeling of Hermione’s thigh pulling away from his. The sticking had begun. He twisted his body to gently roll her to her side of the bed and pulled a sheet between their bodies. Then he curled up behind her.

They were the perfect complement to each other. This had surprised her friends and irritated his family. Hermione was ruthless and cunning, but with a moral streak that could not be swayed. Draco had been courageous enough to move away from his comfort zone time and time again in service to her.

People were still shocked when he made Hermione’s priorities his own.

Hermione sighed contentedly, and her back pressed against Draco’s chest.

In response, he tightened his arm around her belly and buried his nose in her hair.

She was softer, now, in the middle. Bearing two children tends to do that to a witch. Her arse and thighs were thicker, too.

Thinking about that made Draco’s cock twitch.

Hermione was a perfect example of feminine curves. When she was bent at the hips, her arse was heart-shaped, and it accented her tiny waist.

Draco slid his hand to said waist and kissed the back of Hermione’s hair. It smelled of apricots and sweat.

It smelled like home. Draco was surrounded in comforts: a luxurious bed with divine linens which was warmed by his own little sexpot. The dark room was lost to him as he closed his eyes and let sleep settle in.


End file.
